My brother’s suicide was the catalyst for my search for truth about God and my life definitely changed for the better once I began a spiritual journey. But several years after attending the little church in Los Angeles, I was still severely mentally ill. I was also suffering from complicated grief over his death. The illness I was suffering from at the time of his death (panic disorder, agoraphobia, and major depression) had not magically disappeared, but there was a lot of unspoken pressure within my church family to be healed so that I could then, win other souls with the stories of my miraculous healing. People thought that with a story like mine, God would use all the pain, heartache, and trauma, to “win souls to Christ,” and if this happened, then all the horrible events I had been through would be deemed worth it. This is what I desperately longed for. Not only for the healing, but that all that pain and heartache would matter. It would have meaning and purpose. The trouble was, although I was getting a little better, I was in no wise “healed.” I still had panic attacks, was still agoraphobic, and still very depressed.
Very powerful!
Thanks, Mary! I’m checking out yours too!